The visor Jack Nicklaus wore when he shot 65 in the final roundto win the 1967 U.S. Open. "This is the 65 hat," Jack scribbledon the bill. "Thanks for it." Nicklaus was so superstitious thatafter he played well wearing a visor I had bought him for thefirst round of the Open--I was his collaborator on instructionalmaterial at the time--he insisted I buy him a visor each day ofthe tournament. I did, of course, even though it meant gettingup before dawn the day Jack had a very early tee time.

The Victoriaville stick Bobby Orr used on a Saturday afternoonin March 1970, when he became the first NHL defenseman toscore 30 goals in a season. That stick had hung on the playroomwall at home until my namesake son took it down and playedstreet hockey with it.

Programs from the last NBA and NHL games played in BostonGarden, my real home as a kid, and from Les Canadiens' grandfinale in the Montreal Forum. No way I'd miss the chance to seeBill Russell (sports' greatest winner) and Jean Beliveau (theclassiest athlete ever) in the spotlight one more time.

Pictures of a jittery me driving a pace car around the track atIndy at 120 mph, with Rick Mears riding shotgun and urging me tostep on it. Mears took the wheel and did a lap at 140, dodging atrack sweeper with a mere flick of his wrist. "You did bring achange of underwear, didn't you?" he cracked. Pictures withClint Eastwood playing golf at Pebble Beach. Pictures withvarious swimsuit models on desolate beaches in Mexico andThailand.

And the ticket stubs....

Russia-USA, 1980 Winter Olympics, Lake Placid (Section 21, RowM, Seat 6, $67.20). The day Mike Eruzione became a householdname: USA 4, USSR 3. Years later Eruzione, who scored thewinning goal in that historic hockey game, stayed at our houseand left his gold medal ring on the sink. My son Tom thought itwould be cool to flash the ring around school, but his sisters,Kelly and Krissie, vehemently vetoed the idea.

Hearns-Leonard, Caesars Palace, Las Vegas, 1981 (Section II,Aisle 204, Row II, Seat 81, $500). Sensational fight. Sadly,though, it was the last time I saw Tony Conigliaro. He had beenthe rookie slugging star for the '64 Red Sox, I had been therookie writer; we had become friends. Tony C had been the mostluckless of athletes, his career essentially ended by a beanballin '67. After Leonard's victory Tony and I talked for half anhour. He was very upbeat, optimistic that the Red Sox would hirehim as a broadcaster. He went to Boston four months later for aninterview, and while there he suffered a massive heart attackthat left him in a coma for four months. On Feb. 24, 1990, TonyC died at the age of 45.

Winter Olympics, 1984, the Zetra, Sarajevo (Ulaz e, Row 1, Seat18, din. 6.500). Ken Dryden, the Hall of Fame goalie for theCanadiens, and I were sharing a ride to a hockey game when theyoung taxi driver asked if he could play some music. We nodded,and he popped a cassette into the tape player. Suddenly the carwas alive with music, a brisk Yugoslavian polka, festive andloud. "Great tape," we said. "Can we buy it from you?" He shookhis head. "No, my friends, it's not to be sold. Here take it,it's yours...in the name of friendship." Today Sarajevo--aglorious Olympic site--lies in rubble, and one can only pray thecabdriver is alive.

Red Sox-Mets, 1986 World Series, Game 6, Shea Stadium (DiamondView Suite, Box 14, Seat 3, $40). For all members of theBlohards, the Benevolent Loyal Order of Honorable and AncientRed Sox Diehard Sufferers, this was the worst. One out--oneout!--from winning their first World Series since before myfather came over from Ireland in 1921, and pffft!

Angels-Orioles, Camden Yards, 1995 (Sec. 320, Row CC, Seat 9,$14). This was Cal Ripken Jr.'s record 2,131st straight game. Atthe last minute I was invited into a luxury box, and who was inthe adjoining box but President Clinton. Earlier that summerSI's Rick Reilly and I had played golf with the President atCongressional, where Reilly, no doubt fearful of an IRS audit,tanked his round and lost to the President by four or fiveshots. Now there was a tap on the window, and there was thePresident mimicking a golf swing and then writing the numbers 8and 3 in midair. "What's he doing?" someone asked. "Oh, he'stelling us he shot an 83 somewhere," I said. Moments later I wasinvited to join the President. "What about this 83?" I asked."Played six holes at Pebble Beach three times last weekend, andmy score was 83," he said. I shook my head. "I hate to tell youthis, Mr. President, and I hope it won't cost me anambassadorship to Ireland, but that 83 wasn't a regulationround." The President's reaction was silence, but if looks couldkill....

So many memories. How lucky I was to see so many greatperformers, so many great events. Sad thing is, I can't take thebest seat in the house home, to Trish, with me.

B/W PHOTO The boys from Boston in '72: Orr and Mulvoy. [Bobby Orr and Mark Mulvoy]